


Hardcore Ball

by orphan_account



Category: AFI
Genre: Davey in drag, Davey is a warrior of gender, Frat House era, Hardcore hurt/comfort, M/M, awkward Jade, dirty punk babies, wandering the streets of New York
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-06
Updated: 2013-01-06
Packaged: 2017-11-23 21:15:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/626594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Davey, a diner, a dress, and a dog collar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hardcore Ball

**Author's Note:**

> This one was written after I spent a night awake in New York in a prom dress in a dog collar. Cocaine offers, homophobic slurs, and dollar bills were all things I received, and I think me in said attire is a little less rabble-rousing than Davey, so I imagine his  hypothetical experience was worse. Which is why it’s been fictionalized! I don’t own them, this never happened.

The waiter at Westway diner had made it quite clear that he hated them, but Jade wasn’t entirely sure that it was because of Davey’s prom dress. That seemed like the easiest thing to blame it on, seeing as said prom dress acted as the foil for every other thing that happened that evening, but Jade had a sneaking suspicion that the waiter, with his no-nonsense scowl and infrequent visits to their table, actually hated them because they’d been there for around three hours and hadn’t ordered anything but six coffees and two orders of french fries between the three of them. 

“That guy needs to get his ass over here,” Hunter grumbled, poking an empty Sweet and Low packet across the table. “We’ve been ketchup-less for like, twenty minutes. Dave, you should go to the bathroom or something so he’ll come. I think he’s afraid of you.” 

“Or he’s just pissed that we’re cheap,” Jade offered, half-way aware he was being indirectly defensive of Davey, who was currently brandishing his middle finger at Hunter. 

“Suck it,” he announced eloquently, tossing the devil lock from his eyes like a horse flipping his forelock, its streaky blue color dulled by the harsh lighting in the diner. 

Jade sighed. He’d been accidentally tossing his own head every five seconds like his motions held control over Davey’s body parts. He supposed that kind of empathy came along with being in love with someone, but it was annoying to appear as if one had a facial tick all the time. Especially when of course, the move had no effect and Davey’s hair remained stubbornly interrupting his own line of vision, completely unbeknownst to Jade’s preoccupation. 

“I dunno. I think the fact that there’s a drag queen at our table is interfering with our quality of service,” Hunter said before Davey abruptly sat up, leaned across the table scattered with their greasy napkins and unopened half-and-half containers, and spit an impressive mouthful of black coffee onto Hunter’s pale yellow Nerve Agents tee-shirt. Then, he collapsed into a fit of late-night-actually-early-morning giggles, slumped into the vinyl diner booth in a mound of blue taffeta while Hunter sputtered. 

Staring, Jade added, “that or the two infants at our table. I can’t decide.” 

“Lighten up Jade, it’s two-thirty in the morning,” Davey sighed, cheeks flushed with laughter and eyes fixed on Hunter’s glowering face. 

And in all honesty, it _was_ two-thirty in the morning. It was two-thirty in the morning and Jade, Hunter, and Davey were in a diner in Manhattan waiting for their five-thirty bus to carry them away from Port Authority and back to Boston, where Adam and Smith and the tour bus and waited for them to open a Danzig show in a little less than forty-eight hours. Aside from the already ridiculous fact that they were pulling an all nighter in a New York diner just because they wanted to see Bad Religion,  Davey Havok was  also wearing a blue prom-dress, and a dog collar, and Jade was in love with him. 

Davey in a dress in and of itself wasn’t the biggest deal in the world. Jade and Hunter didn’t think it was all that weird, seeing as Davey’s usual state of dress was one third fishnet, one third PVC, and one third eyeliner. New York City, on the other hand, had a hell of a lot to say about Davey’s dress, and this made for a long, long night of slurs and pick-up lines and catcalls and death threats. Davey seemed mostly unfazed, Hunter seemed kind of exasperated, but Jade was a fucking mess over it. A well-concealed mess, perhaps,  but a mess all the same. 

See, the deal with Jade was that he wanted Davey like a drowning man wants air in his lungs: in that desperate, frantic _dying_ way. And he’d wanted him that bad for quite awhile. Usually, he could stow it away in his back pocket as an unfortunate fact of life he ignored but allowed to slowly murder him. Something he dealt with by cathartically listening to the Smiths and laughing at himself and moping about a future spent loveless and alone. 

But all nighters in New York in the middle of the Danzig tour, all nighters during which he was forced to suffer through strangers either shamelessly hitting on Davey or telling him he was destined to burn in hellfire for eternity...not exactly circumstances that kept things stowed in back pockets. 

It was Davey’s fault for being crazy, and for following through with stupid ideas. The show they hauled their asses from Boston to see was called Hardcore Ball. Like Headbanger’s Ball, only better, Davey said as he told them the line up and jotted down their travel itinerary on a napkin the day before. Hunter casually asked, “What, you gonna wear a dress, Dave? Like when Kurt Cobain wore a dress to Headbanger’s ball?”

And like Kurt Cobain, Davey responded just as casually, “Well, sure. It _is_ a ball.” 

Jade and Hunter both forgot about it. After all, where on earth would Davey find a dress? 

But somehow, he managed to take a taxi to a Goodwill in Boston the day before they left for New York, where he purchased a royal blue, metallic taffeta prom dress from the 80s for sixteen dollars. It matched his devil lock. It also matched a similarly metallic blue synthetic leather dog-collar they had lying around the bus, some nasty thing Hunter’s whip-wielding, chain-flogging ex-girlfriend left in his luggage on accident. Of course, the fact that both articles of clothing were the same hideous blue was enough for Davey to decide they were necessary companions. So Davey wore a dress and a collar. On their Greyhound bus from Boston to New Haven, and on their train from New Haven to Grand Central, and from Grand Central to Bad Religion, and from Bad Religion to Westway diner. 

It didn’t interfere with his ability to enjoy the show. No, Davey was a champ and managed to mosh and head crawl with the best of them, a sight to behold like a metallic cobalt comet shooting off the stage and tumbling about in the crowd, lace and taffeta sticking to sweaty-red skin and tensed muscle as he windmilled his arm into the masses of denim and cotton and shock. 

Jade adored him. Admired the hell out of him, admired the way the top half of the dress bunched loose and ugly around his flat chest, the way his inked heart hung out like spilled cranberry juice across a vulnerable expanse of skin and bone. Admired the way Davey ignored the stares, turning them into shrugs, and batted his lashes coyly and licked his upper lip at the snarled _fags_ , turning them into slack-jawed outrage. In short, Davey was the most hardcore person at Hardcore Ball by far. 

The dress didn’t fuck it up at all. What did fuck up, however, was Jade’s ability to present as a functioning member of society after the fact. 

They’d finally given up on an exciting night in Manhattan and retired to the diner because Jade was on the brink of getting them into a fist fight or something. It was just _too much._ Too much anyway, but when coupled with the sleep deprivation excess became excess _upon_   excess. 

They’d been followed down Thirty Second Street for way too many blocks by some homophobic homeless guy shaking his empty soup can of change at Davey crowing shit about the end of times and eternal damnation and whatnot. They’d been offered varying sums of money for a romp in the bedsheets with Davey and his blue taffeta from inarguably repulsive and increasingly drunk johns, all of whom Davey had sort of led on for a few blocks before Jade started fuming and steering him through the masses of tourists in Times Square to prevent any actual threat to his safety, because Davey was fucking dumb and couldn’t take care of himself. 

Lastly, they’d been offered cocaine (‘real good shit’, apparently) from a sleazy dude who actually _touched_ Davey, right on his tattooed and comically male bicep. This was when Jade started fearing some kind of grand slip-up, because the second he saw those drug-touching fingers alight themselves suggestively on Davey’s pure, straightedge skin, he kind of lost it. 

“NO! We don’t want cocaine! And we’re not going to hell! And he’s not an abomination! AND HE WON’T SLEEP WITH YOU!” is probably what Jade yelled. That, or something like it. Regardless,  Jade yelled something that was too involved and too vehement and too suggestive and a million other degrees of _too-much_ , and Davey and Hunter had to drag him away from the rather startled but still just as sleazy cocaine-guy before he got them mugged and killed or whatever. 

So now they were at Westway, getting ignored by their waiter and spitting coffee at each other to pass the inevitable few hours that stretched ahead of them miserably before the promise of Port Authority. And they were sleep deprived. And Jade was still in love with Davey, even though he was stupid and hell-bound and bad for everyone’s health. 

“You’re bad for everyone’s health,” he announced to Davey the second he had this thought, eyes a little bleary. He blinked, and Davey’s chiseled face came into sharp focus, tired bags under his eyes streaked with now dry eyeliner-sweat from the show, upper lip chapped where he licked it all the time. His mouth was sneering, amused and condescending in a _Jade, stop talking until you get some sleep_ way. 

“I’m bad for everyone’s health?! You’re the one picking fights with drug dealers,” he reminded Jade, who looked at his lap bashfully. 

“Let’s not forget that he was a _fat_ drug dealer. An entire two hundred pounds bigger than all of us combined,” Hunter contributed, dunking his napkin in Davey’s water glass before rubbing it vigorously against his shirt. “If this stains Dave, I swear...”

“I thought he was going to...contaminate us,” Jade argued lamely, sounding both incoherent and like an asshole. Then he snapped his mouth shut, cheeks coloring a little bit. “I should just stop talking, shouldn’t I?” 

“Please do, unless you’re gonna call the waiter,” Hunter said. Jade had never noticed this before, but Hunter’s hair was the same effervescent white-yellow as the Nerve Agents shirt he was wearing. Sans coffee, of course. Jade was about to actually comment on this and say _I’m the only one whose hair doesn’t match my outfit!_ but he caught himself, biting his hand instead. 

“I’m so exhausted I’ve stopped making sense, I think,” he said carefully, eyeing Davey in a sidelong glance. He was slouched down in the booth playing with a straw, bedded down in a throne of metallic royal blue. 

“That happens when you don’t sleep...and we haven’t slept in what...two days now, Jade?” Davey offered, making Jade’s already nervous stomach flip-flop with butterfly force at the word _we_. It was true. This was the second all nighter in a row Davey and Jade had pulled together; it happened a lot, they were both divas and couldn’t sleep in the van. This called for lots of delusional card-games at four in the morning, or sometimes just them leaning on their respective windows reading the street signs aloud to each other and laughing stupidly at small-town lake names and shit. Jade wasn’t proud of his prissy need for comfortable sleeping arrangements or anything, but he was glad the insomnia bonded him to Davey. He attributed their newfound closeness to this in part, and looked at it as a kind of blessing in disguise most days. 

Except for this day, when the sleep deprivation was interfering with his usual talent for silence. Jade was normally good at keeping quiet, at holding his breath until the perfect moment to slide some clever one-liner in. Good at keeping things in back pockets. So he really should  have avoided the whole sleep deprivation thing, because not being able to hold his tongue was one of the worst possible fates he could imagine. Especially in Davey’s proximity. 

At that moment, a party of three Pseudo-European, stylish New York looking type guys walked in, allowing a horrible gust of January air to invade the diner. The busboy (who also managed to ignore them, and their pleas for the waiter) seated the douche-posse in the booth adjacent to their own. And of course, because Jade’s willpower to stay out of fights needed to be tested, one of the guys sat back, gave Davey a skin-crawling once-over, and slapped a sweaty looking dollar bill down on their table. 

Hunter stared with a raised eyebrow, Davey didn’t even notice, and Jade’s mouth fell open, aghast, as he spouted _“Excuse me?!”_

“Uh oh, did I just hit on your boyfriend?” The guy, who easily had the stupidest hair of the bunch, said in this awful oily voice. Davey snapped his head up then, realizing he’d just been paid for being pretty.

“Aw, thanks!” He said, snatching the dollar bill and stuffing it inside his tattered left sneaker.

“You’re gonna _take that?”_ Jade all but squeaked, mind jolting back towards that awful word _contamination._

“Well yeah. It’s a dollar. And I’m broke from these fucking bus fares,” Davey said logically. 

“It was only a dollar, Dave? Jeez you’re a cheap whore,” Hunter chirruped, completely unsympathetic to the conniption fit Jade was trying to fight off with all his sleep-deprived, show-exhausted will. 

“I don’t see anyone offering you _any_ money, baby,” Davey snapped, hiking up his dilapidated bodice. The dress, having withstood around seven hardcore bands with seven hardcore pits and a number of windmills, spin kicks, and punches and fifteen gallons of sweat, had clearly seen better days. The lace sewn to the bottom was hanging off of it in great arcs, torn and stepped on. And because Davey had nothing to hold them up with, the molded cups that were intended for boobs had kind of lost their shape, wilting into a shapeless blue mess that sagged off of him in all the wrong places. Still, he was getting dollar bills from guys with gelled hair in diners. And still, Jade felt the need to defend him from said assholes. 

He dropped his head to his arms, almost upending the plate with its few soggy fries half-drowned in ketchup. “Davey, next time you should just wear the vinyl pants and fishnet. This is too much.” 

“Excuse me, but _I_   was the only one who was dressed appropriately for a ball,” Davey quipped, nudging Jade’s thigh with his own, which was pretty exposed: shaved and tattooed but disturbingly _naked_ in that dress. Jade jerked away from his touch. 

“You were the _only_ one in a dress,” Jade whined, as if this was a personal offense. 

“And now I have a dollar for it. I’m gonna pee,” Davey announced with an air of finality,  sliding out of the booth and stomping away. Heads turned, but only a few. It was the middle of the night in New York, after all; he probably _wasn’t_ the only dude in a dress, really.

“You should lay off the protective boyfriend thing; it’s starting to look kind of weird,” Hunter told Jade once Davey was out of ear shot. Jade glared at him, a scalding, flower-wilting  glare that made Hunter shrink into his side of the booth. 

“Fuck. You.” 

“Uh, I was kind of joking, but based on your enormous overreaction I’m rethinking the joke part of it.” 

“No seriously dude. I feel...I....” There was a kind of scary pleading note to Jade’s voice, so Hunter backed off, getting quiet and sipping his coffee. 

“Alright, I’ll just blame it on your exhaustion. But maybe you should follow him. Make sure none of those assholes tailed him in there to find out what was under the dress, you know?” His blue eyes were hard, impenetrable and icy and vague. Jade couldn’t read them, just stared at the glassy surface until he could see himself, sloppy-looking and awkward, leaning too close towards his reflection. 

And to maintain a level of consistency, Jade could not control himself as he got up and followed Davey to the bathroom, merely because Hunter may-or-may-not have suggested it. And because he didn’t want to be in Hunter’s scrutinizing, boyfriend-joke making presence any longer. 

The whole eighty-thousand mile long trip to the diner bathroom was plagued with frantic thoughts of _why exactly am I doing this?_ and _I am a super mess right now_. Because Jade had no idea what to expect when he got to the bathroom, aside from Davey Havok in a prom dress and a dog collar and a pair of old-ass chuck sneakers. But whatever it was, it would be better than Hunter’s unreadable gaze, and a table full of skeezeballs with bad hair giving _money _to them.__

__He opened the door, and there Davey stood at the urinal, hiking his dress up with one hand into a mess of black lace and blue taffeta at his waist, and the other hand around his dick. He had clearly finished pissing, and was just standing there lazily letting the drip finish itself off, boxers bunched around his knees. Jade stared. Davey glanced to him, making no move whatsoever to cover himself up. Instead, he just cocked his head and said, “what do you want?”_ _

__And Jade answered the question for both of them by reaching out, dragging Davey away from the urinal and to the sink, and subsequently pinning him to the counter there and crushing their mouths together. Davey grunted as his lower back slammed into unforgiving tile, mouth silenced as it was covered by Jade’s and its hungry, demanding kisses._ _

__Jade couldn’t believe himself, but he also couldn’t believe Davey, who tasted like bitter like coffee and salty like fries, but was kissing back quite undisputedly. Jade knew that somewhere under the overpriced diner food flavor there was Davey’s flavor, so he kept licking into his mouth with abandon, hands raking hot, wild paths across the skin of Davey’s stomach, Davey’s ass, anything he could reach that wasn’t hidden beneath layers of taffeta._ _

__Davey was squirming against Jade, pushing his hips up to meet Jade’s and tripping a little, trying desperately to get one leg out of his boxers so he could spread them properly and stand right. The knowledge that Davey was caught up in his own stupid clothes, nearly toppling over under Jade’s weight obliterated the little control Jade had of his thoughts and his actions, and before he could stop himself he was blurting into the wet sliding skin of Davey’s mouth, “I’m gonna fuck you, right here. In this bathroom.”_ _

__Which was a hollow promise because honestly, who would fuck somewhere so unsanitary, and plus, Jade didn’t have lube or anything. Still, it was the thought that counted. And he really _had_ meant it in the moment, between Davey’s frantic panting and maddeningly soft skin. But regardless of any true intention or lack thereof behind it, Davey fucking up and _laughed_ at him when he said it. Broke their kiss, let his head fall back and _laughed_ , adam’s apple bobbing a breath away from Jade’s yearning lips, sliding under the synthetic blue curve of his dog collar._ _

__“What?!” Jade asked, still grinding up against Davey (who let him despite his hysterics)._ _

__“Just...its not gonna be that way,” he growled, dropping his too-dark eyes, voice low as he leaned in and caught Jade’s mouth again between his teeth. And everything that followed happened very fast._ _

__Jade imagined hooking his own fingers into the metal D-ring of Davey’s collar, flipping him around, grabbing some lube that materialized and fucking his ass bent over the counter, up under that dress. But mysteriously, he was the one what ended up on his stomach. In the stall, no less, where Davey had managed to steer him and push him up against the wall. He was sure that somewhere in there he heard the comforting metallic click of Davey latching the door, but he couldn’t hear anything now, not with Davey panting in his ear, pushing his shoulder flush with the tile wall with one hand while he shoved the other into the front of his pants._ _

__“Whoa, dude, you can’t...”_ _

__“Watch me,” Davey hissed, punctuating his command with a insistent snap of his hips against Jade’s ass. “I’ve waited long enough.”  He licked a messy strip across the back of Jade’s neck, mewling a little and fumbling with the front of Jade’s pants gracelessly. Grace apparently wasn’t a requirement for Jade, however, who was hard and straining against his boxers, jerking his hips clumsily into Davey’s wandering palm. But that might have been at what he was saying, and not exactly what he was doing._ _

__“Wha...you’ve waited too...?” he said dumbly. Then, “Fuck!” Davey actually had a grip on his dick now, albeit through Jade’s boxers, but still. Boxers was better than jeans, which were currently unbuckled and  falling off._ _

__“Mmhm,” Davey sighed, raking his teeth against cords in Jade’s neck, which were tense and twitching under a searching tongue. “Forever.”_ _

__Jade shuddered, gooseflesh suddenly exploding across his forearms and body, one of one hundred involuntary reactions his body had to Davey’s touch, Davey’s thick voice pushing out the word _forever_. Jade seriously doubted he meant _forever_ forever, but it didn’t seem to matter much. The point was that this wasn’t just Davey kissing him out of sleep deprivation or obligation or whatever...this was Davey kissing him because he _wanted to_. Because he’d been _waiting_ for it, Just like Jade had. _ _

__It was too much. Jade’s cock twitched in Davey’s palm, and he made a noise, something animal and raw and ripped like the dress that was itchy and uncomfortable against his back, where his shirt was rucked up.  Davey bit him in response, hard on the shoulder. “Jesus Christ, Jade, why didn’t you do this ages ago?” he hissed through his teeth, pressing his very evident erection against the crease of Jade’s ass._ _

__Why? Why? Jade didn’t know; he couldn’t comprehend something as complex as three letters and a question mark, not with that insane heat, that hard dick against him with nothing but a damp later of cotton keeping them from skin to skin contact. He wheezed, trying hard to remember why on earth he hadn’t done this before tonight._ _

__“Uh...I didn’t know that you...if you...” he mumbled, words feeling clumsy and too long in his mouth. Davey’s thumb had slid through the opening in his boxers and was sliding through the precum at the slit, firm with experimental, world-collapsing pressure._ _

__“Ah,” Davey scoffed, removing one hand from where it was clawing at Jade’s neck and spitting noisily into it. “Well. I do.” And with that he finally yanked Jade’s boxers down off of his ass and wiped his own saliva on his own dick. With a fist around Jade’s length, and the other hand holding his weakened shoulder to the wall with what seemed like super-human, lust-fueled strength, Davey proceeded to fuck the crack of Jade’s ass with slow, heavy strokes. His cock head catching occasionally at the spot Jade was twitching and half-open, the skin slippery with spit and sweat and precum._ _

__Jade’s mouth fell open, and he shut his eyes tight against the crackling static which replaced his vision. Davey’s weight against his back was too good, the wet, clumsy pressure of his palm too much. But too much in the best kind of way, too much in the way where Jade didn’t actually mean too much,  and actually just meant exactly enough. Exactly what he was capable of handling before his breaking point, before he boiled over or collapsed or died or got in a fight with a drug dealer. Exactly enough, because Davey tried hard to define himself by excess, and too much, but Davey wasn’t too much, not for Jade._ _

__“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he mumbled hazily at this revelation, commenting both on the insistent jerking of Davey’s hand and the crazy, no-longer-slow jerks of his hips, but also just Davey in a grander sense, Davey and his insomnia, his prom dress, his excess._ _

__“Mmhm, but not like you. Not perfect like you,” Davey said in a ragged voice, lips and teeth ceasing their tom-cat bite on Jade’s neck and slackening to a wet, hungry kiss. “Fuck,” he said quietly, and came in a mess of searing, sticky heat right against Jade’s asshole, smearing himself nearly inside, nearly too far, nearly too much._ _

__But that almost-pain, just the threat of it, forced Jade to follow suit, thighs tensing and spasming as he came over Davey’s fist and onto the wall he was pressed against. It was kind of beautiful, the milky blue-white splattered across the cobalt tile. Or Jade thought so anyway, though his sleep-deprived, recently orgasmed vision might have been slightly biased._ _

__“Hey,” he mumbled, voice quiet and strained under Davey’s dead weight at his back. “The tile matches your dress.”_ _

__“Well, would you look at that,” Davey said, unimpressed. He sighed, hand finally ceasing its lazy ghost-motion of jacking Jade off. He wiped it off on his dress, mimicking that white-on-blue thing Jade seemed to be so aesthetically pleased by on his own body. Jade groaned, appreciative and half-aware that he wasn’t making sense, not even in his own mind._ _

__“We should get back to Hunter, before he gets assaulted by that table of douches with the hair...” Jade offered, shifting gingerly against the wall, stomach twisting at the feel of Davey’s dick sliding from between his own ass cheeks and the dirty, wet feeling of jizz dripping to this sensitive thighs. He rolled over carefully, back thumping against the tile of the wall a few careful inches away from his own cum._ _

__Davey didn’t answer, just stared at him darkly, looking exhausted and debauched and a little crazy in his dress. He still had Jade pinned to the wall with his body weight._ _

__“Uh, Dave?” Jade whispered, their mouths touching not not kissing._ _

__Then Davey’s tongue was at the roof of his mouth and they _were_ kissing, wet and soft and hard all at once, so many impossibilities in one press of lips. Too much, and at the same time _not enough_ , so Jade clutched his fists into Davey’s taffeta bodice and pulled them flush, biting and sucking and making noise and all the things Jade didn’t like to _do_ because he was a composed, quiet, controlled individual. _ _

__“You make me _insane_ ,” Davey growled, saying sort of what Jade was thinking, only more coherently. “I wish we didn’t have to go back there. I wish we were at the hotel. Or at home. Or anyfuckingwhere I could take this stupid dress off.” He pressed their foreheads together, lips somewhere near the corner of Jade’s mouth._ _

__“Or I could take it off of you,” Jade suggested, smiling lamely._ _

__“Preferably, yes,” Davey finally pushed off of Jade, adjusting his bodice even though it just fell back down again and was an entirely useless gesture.  Jade half-assedly yanked his pants up after wiping himself and only himself off, deciding he should leave his jizz on the wall as a _fuck you_ to New York City and all its crazies. _ _

__“Shall we?” he said to Davey, offering his elbow. They linked arms, exiting the bathroom like a disheveled, virginity-losing couple on prom night, dress and all._ _

__Hunter stared at them as they approached, at their flushed cheeks and sheepish grins and messy hair. “Hi,” Jade coughed, sitting down and burying his head in his arms._ _

__“I was going to slow-clap as you guys came down the aisle, but I forgot Dave was wearing a dress and it rendered me momentarily speechless, seeing as I was picturing all sorts of gross things you guys could have been doing in there, only with the added bonus of a _dress_ ,” Hunter announced dryly. _ _

__“And your ex-girlfriend’s dog collar,” Davey added, grinning cheekily. Jade grinned too, but his face was hidden so no one but the Westway Diner tabletop and his own arm knew._ _

__“Aw, fuck you dude,” Hunter snorted. “At least the waiter came back while you two were getting it on. Look, ketchup.”_ _

__Davey sighed, cocking his head so that the devil lock, (which was now dismantled and humidified and almost unidentifiable as a devil lock at all) fell in his face, sticking to the perspiration still cooling there. And at first, Jade jerked his head, flipping it for Davey like he was used to doing. But then it hit him._ _

__“Ah, hell,” he muttered, reaching across the table and brushing the mess of blue and black across Davey’s flushed cheek. And then, he tucked it behind his ear, thumb brushing near-accidentally across the mole next to his mouth in the process._ _

__“Uh, i’ll just, um get a room with my ketchup here and stop making you two _uncomfortable_ ,”  Hunter scoffed, shoulders bunched around his neck sullenly. _ _

__Jade ignored it, and Davey didn’t hear it. He instead was looking kind of deaf, and kind of moved, eyes wide and amazed at Jade’s hand near his face, at his hair. “Thanks,” he said quietly, and it was just loud enough to be audible above the diner racket._ _


End file.
